What would you do for a $30 glass cup? The average answer probably (hopefully) wouldn’t be, “Verbally spar with my local Starbucks workers at five in the morning,” or, “Drop the price of a new pick-up truck on a predatory reseller’s eBay listing.” Alas, this is the Year of Our Lord 2025.
Micro trends have overtaken America, but consumerism is far from a new concept. Wealth, worldly comforts, and the status they convey have been valued since ancient times. Despite modern society’s apparent belief in its progress, human psychology remains essentially unchanged.
In early November 2025, the coffee magnate Starbucks released a limited-edition glass cup shaped like a teddy bear. It sold out that same day. The cup’s sale prompted eager buyers to camp outside their local Starbucks and Target stores before sunrise, bicker with baristas, and even fight with other cup-owning hopefuls for a chance to score this new collector’s item.
The Starbucks teddy cup situation is not an isolated incident in the past couple of years. It mirrors the Stanley Cup craze of early 2024, the Trader Joe’s tote bag incident of early 2025, and the Labubu doll mania that framed much of mid-2025’s consumption climate.
Today, corporations and their cheaply produced goods have become a form of pop culture in their own right. Drink the Kool-Aid (or the Strawberry Acai Refresher) and join the cult; there’s no lore, community, or shared values, except a collective desire to obtain the latest manipulatively marketed object of interest.
The concern is less about people wielding their purchasing power and more about the seemingly constant stream of small, overpriced, ultimately trivial material goods fads dominating America and provoking the worst behavior from participants. Why do grown adults fight over “nice-to-haves”? Why do items likely destined for the landfill in a year become newsworthy?
The answer lies in human behavior and how it has been twisted by both modern social conditioning and realities beyond our control.
“He who dies with the most toys wins!” was once a satirical remark lobbed at materialism; now, it is a creed for many. Consumerism wasn’t always the cultural juggernaut it is today, but the 20th century, during which it prominently emerged, had its share of “material moments”. The Cabbage Patch Kid frenzy of 1983 is an oft-cited example.
A TIME Magazine article penned shortly after the events described a “near riot” of 5,000 customers at a West Virginian department store, where “People were grabbing at each other, pushing and shoving” to get their hands on a doll. Another incident in Pennsylvania resulted in a woman’s broken leg when the crowd turned violent; there, the store’s departmental manager had to take up a baseball bat behind the counter to defend himself.
The Cabbage Patch Kid and subsequent Tickle Me Elmo hysteria forecasted a storm brewing in American society—companies committing acts of quasi-psychological warfare while consumers acted as accomplices. As the 21st century unfolded, new mediums such as the internet and social media enabled advertisements and “can’t miss it!” attitudes to reach people at any hour of the day.
America now stands in the wreckage of a cyclone of nonstop promos and FOMOs. The events that led to this point—where anyone with a credit card might be willing to duke it out for the latest overhyped prize—have been both calculated and inevitable.
Who Cares Who You Are?
The goal of every brand is to satisfy a desire or need. Athletes need sportswear, so Nike supplies performance shoes; health-conscious people want fast-food options aligned with their lifestyles, so Subway offers customizable sandwiches and allegedly fresh ingredients. These companies sell identities as much as items.
“Just do it” and “Eat fresh”, Nike and Subway’s slogans, emphasize purpose and persona. Nike customers may identify with “Just do it” because it serves as a call to action for adventure and effort, and as an implicit condemnation of laxity. Subway consumers may feel supported in their quest for “healthy” take-out because “Eat fresh” implies “Eat right” (even if that’s not always the case).
For brands, identity is currency. When someone buys their product, they are buying into the brand’s “personality”. This influences everything from what phone a person uses—Apple or Android? is the eternal question—to the “console wars” between PlayStation and Xbox.
In Starbucks’ case, buyers skew toward “young, urban, and affluent”, according to a target market analysis. When the company debuts a limited-edition item, it can quickly trend for its status-signaling potential. That same analysis model clocks Trader Joe’s customers as “educated 25–45-year-olds with mid-to-high incomes”. A new tote bag can enable patrons to subtly flex their income and lifestyle.
In an age of endless comparison, curated self-images, and performativity, identity matters more than ever. The United States has 253 million social media users, or 73% of its population. Research indicates that comparing oneself to others online is related to higher levels of anxiety and depression. Branded products allow everyone, from the insecure to the authentically passionate, to tell the world who they are without ever uttering a word. As social media remains a playground for materialistic flaunting and nonstop life highlights, the pressure to appear a certain way increases.
Are you part of the rich suburban mom’s club or not?
Club Membership Will Cost You
In May 2023, U.S. Surgeon General Dr. Vivek Murthy issued a public health advisory, outing loneliness as being nearly as deadly as a pack of cigarettes per day. His report relayed that people who used social media for more than two hours per day experienced “double the odds of reporting increased perceptions of social isolation compared to those who used social media for less than 30 minutes per day.”
A Harvard project discovered that 21% of American adults in a national survey reported “serious feelings of loneliness.” The primary cause? Technology. In this highly individualistic culture, freedom is democratized, but so is isolation. The average person spends nearly two and a half hours daily on social media: enough time to experience loneliness, comparison, and a greater desire for belonging.
When the Stanley “Quencher H2.O Tumbler” craze swept America nearly two years ago, one participant attributed it to the fear of missing out, or “FOMO”. The 40-oz stainless steel, lead-filled thirst buster gained online accolades for its rainbow of color choices, straw, and excellent temperature maintenance ability, turning it from a hydration tool into a temporary tube of terror.
The cup’s $45 price tag added to its allure, making it an investment that not everyone could afford. “It’s just a cup, but it represents something symbolic,” associate professor of marketing Charles Lindsey (University at Buffalo School of Management) explained. “It represents something aspirational… being part of a group, an affiliation, or a lifestyle.”
Suddenly, a cup that shoppers may have passed in the grocery store without a second glance becomes a beacon of belonging. Show off the latest hard-to-get color or that infamous Stanley x Starbucks Target-exclusive variant on social media, and watch the comments pour in faster than an iced Caramel Macchiato into your tumbler.
A loneliness epidemic and chronic internet use mean that even small objects that could never fill a void in someone’s life can bring people together, albeit superficially. It may be as close to others as we’re willing to get once isolation takes its hold.
Anxiety-Induced Urgency
Manufactured scarcity is among many companies’ preferred marketing strategies: make customers fear missing out (there’s that FOMO again) on a new, never-to-be-seen-again product, and they’re more likely to buy it. Such was the case with the Trader Joe’s tote bags.
A series of Mini Pastel Canvas Tote Bags, priced at $2.99 apiece, caused wraparound lines at Trader Joe’s stores across America this past spring. The company posted on its website, “The smaller the tote, the bigger the sensation. Last year, when we introduced our Mini Canvas Totes, we were so pleasantly surprised by their rapturous reception that we’re bringing in even more Mini Totes, this time in a series of Pastel shades to herald the beginning of spring.”
Scalpers responded by buying the four-color tote sets and reselling them online for hundreds of dollars. “These bags are limited, making them a symbol of ‘in-the-know’ status—those who have them are part of a ‘club’,” explained psychotherapist Jonathan Alpert. “This makes the bags more than just a useful product—they’ve become a symbol of the Trader Joe’s lifestyle.”
Scarcity marketing is not inherently evil and often sparks creativity and innovation for brands. It is also an intelligent business move. However, when combined with national-level identity crises and desire for belonging, it can become a siren that seduces money from the safety of one’s wallet into the hands of corporations. Participation in limited drops should be fun, not borderline compulsory. Where a person stands on that line is ultimately their responsibility.
These little treats may seem silly, but they’re often a lifeline people use to grasp onto some sense of pleasure and reassurance. Those who cannot count on bigger rewards later may reach for smaller ones now.
Life’s (Very) Little Treats
Grocery prices are currently up 29% from February 2020, before the pandemic rocked supply chains, restaurants, and businesses. Generation Z is turning to “little treats” to cope with the various stressors plaguing a struggling economy. In 2001, “little treat culture” went by another name: the lipstick index.
This theory posits that as the economy declines, people splurge more on affordable luxuries such as lipsticks and perfumes. Nowadays, stainless steel status symbol cups and Starbucks have joined the assembly of tiny pick-me-ups to turn to when the weight of the modern world becomes too much.
“As inflation picks up and wallets are tightening, you want to make yourself feel better,” explained Jeff Kreisler, Head of Behavioral Science at J.P. Morgan Private Bank. “You can’t do the big American dream things, like buy a house. In some ways, these little things matter more. They’re special and they can help you every day.”
Pressured, Not Powerless
America’s preoccupation with plastic and passing fancies is the symptom of a culture sick for lack of connection and meaning. We reach for lipsticks to make life less ugly, Starbucks to sweeten world-weary bitterness, and colorful cups because the planet looks increasingly dark. We, the consumers, are victims and culprits of our spendthrift ways. No one forces us to trend-chase, but we do it because we often feel we have no choice.
Grab that popular tumbler before the person next to you or risk missing out on a cultural moment; snap up a tote bag so people know you’re educated and thriving during these financially trying times; attach yourself to the latest viral social media trend so someone out there—preferably many someones—knows you exist, and even admires you. What do you have to lose when so much else feels like a loss?
Despite society’s apparent bleakness, there is always room for hope. Remembering personal agency and consciously resisting impulse buys helps restore a sense of power. Pausing before purchasing and asking, “Do I see myself actively using this in six months?” and “Am I buying this because I want it or because others want me to want it?” encourages critical thinking.
Of course, diverting time and mental energy to productive, fulfilling hobbies, like indulging a deep passion or honing a skill, also builds a natural buffer between you and those targeting your wallet. It is harder for a purposeful person to continuously reach for trivialities than for one who is not.
While America’s consumption rate is unlikely to slow anytime soon, this truth should liberate us: we wield the wallet, not the other way around, and brands, like tattoos, can be removed.
Works Cited
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Friedrich, Otto. “The Strange Cabbage Patch Craze.” TIME Magazine. 12 December 1983.
Genovese, Daniella. “How one Trader Joe’s bag turned into a ‘status symbol’.” Fox Business. 14 April 2025.
Horsley, Scott. “Grocery prices have jumped up, and there’s no relief in sight.” NPR. 19 September 2025.
Kemp, Simon. “Digital 2025: The United States of America.” Data Reportal. 25 February 2025.
Lin-Fisher, Betty & Schulz, Bailey. “What is so special about Stanley Cups? The psychology behind the year’s thirstiest obsession.” USA Today. 13 January 2024.
Mannion, Mary. “What is the lipstick index?” JPMorgan Chase & Co. 5 June 2025.
Miller, Heather. “A brief history of Tickle Me Elmo.” Live Now Fox. 13 December 2024.
Murthy, Vivek. “Our Epidemic of Loneliness and Isolation: The U.S. Surgeon General’s Advisory on the Healing Effects of Social Connection and Community”. Department of Health and Human Services. May 2023.
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Pereira, Daniel. “Trader Joe’s Target Market Analysis.” The Business Model Analyst. 21 July 2025.
Ross, Elizabeth M. “What is Causing Our Epidemic of Loneliness and How Can We Fix It?” Harvard Graduate School of Education. 25 October 2024.
Seabrook, Elizabeth M.; Kern, Margaret L.; Rickard, Nikki S. “Social Networking Sites, Depression, and Anxiety: A Systematic Review.” JMIR Mental Health, vol. 3, no. 4, 2016, e50.
The University of Maine. “Social Media Statistics Details”.
Willingham, AJ. “The Stanley craze begs the question: Why do we love our special little cups so much?” CNN. 10 January 2024.